Hiding From You
by Writingquill87
Summary: She thought he was dead. He thought she was. Until the day they finally have the shock of a lifetime. Although this is five years after the evening where everything fell apart and that Hermione already gave her hand to someone else, will feelings born a d
1. Prologue

Prologue

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night  
Take these broken wings and learn to fly  
All your life  
You were only waiting for this moment to arise_

_-Blackbird, The Beatles_

"Ron! Where are you!" Hermione Granger saw her fiancé run down a hallway, chasing a Death Eater. "Ron!" She ducked under a spell, and ran in the same direction which Ron had run. "Ron!" Hermione's voice was becoming a little panicked, now. Where was he?

Hermione sprinted down the path where Ron had went, her heart pondering in her throat, and only one thought in her mind. She had to help Ron.

She heard cries in the distance, various spells shouted out, ordering the wand to kill or to harm. Phoenixes had a grip around the remaining Death Eaters.

After Harry Potter had killed Voldemort in the last confrontation of all, he had collapsed, as a result of exhaustion, and was brought quickly to St. Mungo's for healing.

And now it was up to them to do the rest; to take the remaining Death Eaters. It wouldn't be an easy task to fulfil, but they had to try.

She heard voices summing in the other end of the hall and she knew she was trapped here. But she didn't care. "RON!" Her breath was heavy and fast, and a few curls had left the bun.

Hermione turned left, guessing he had run there, and was now becoming more and more afraid. Was he dead?

She thought she could hear quick footsteps behind her. She cast a quick look over her shoulder, but couldn't see anything, and ran further down the hall. "Ron!"

Her cries was making echoes, and repeating his name a thousand times more. But Ron didn't come to her nor did he respond to her shouting. He would have come if he heard her, right?

She sat down on the floor, not believing it. "No. He can't be dead. No…" Hermione started to sob, tears streaming down her face, and couldn't take control over it no more. "No… No." She couldn't stop the tears, and she wouldn't do it either. Maybe he would hear it if she cried. Yes, he was just hiding from the Death Eaters. When he heard it was Hermione's sobbing, he would come out from his hiding place and comfort her, tell that everything was okay, embrace her and stroke her hair.

But he didn't come from a hiding place. He didn't come to her at all. She got up, drying her eyes with a handkerchief she'd got when they still were at Hogwarts, and realised that no Death Eater had followed after her.

After she had calmed herself, and dried all of her tears and her nose, she started to go back. What should she say? That she couldn't find him? What would Arthur say? And poor Molly… She couldn't bear anymore, Hermione guessed. After the death of the twins, she had become reserved from the rest of them. Poor Molly…

She walked slowly up the same path she had run some time before, but now saw something she hadn't seen when she had run after Ron; the necklace she had given to him before the Battle started. "No…" she whispered, and took it up. She opened the medallion and saw the picture of her sitting under a beech tree outside the Burrow. "Oh, Ron… what has happened to you?"

She stumbled herself down the hall and up to the room where the duelling had been. Now all the Death Eaters were either dead, knocked out or fast asleep. There were a couple of Phoenixes lying on the floor, but all were alive. But not Ron.

"Hermione! Thank goodness, we have been so worried!" Arthur ran towards her and embraced her.

Hermione broke down, tears pouring down her face, and couldn't stop it. She dreaded to face Arthur, to say that his son was dead. But she had to.

"Hermione, dear, what is it?" Arthur looked worried, and embraced her again.

"Arthur…" she sobbed, trying to get herself under control yet again, "Ron… I didn't find him… I think he's dead."


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1  
**

_Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes  
They call me on and on across the universe,  
Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box  
They tumble blindly as they make their way  
Across the universe  
- Across the Universe, The Beatles  
_

He was running down the hall, tracking down a Death Eater. His breath was heavy, his heart was pumping, and the blood was rushing inside. There were shouts and yells behind him, but all he was focusing at was the man running in front of him. They were running down a dark hall, with only a candle or two to light up, giving the whole situation a creepy feeling. Ron ran and ran, but couldn't manage to get him.

At last he had to give up, and sat down. He heard voices whispering everywhere. Reminding him of all of the things he had been through. "Shut up!" Ron yelled, and shot spells everywhere in the hall. Then there was a mysterious sound, like a soft _klunk_. "Hello?"

Ron started to walk, when he saw something glitter in the shadows. When he came closer, it was a body. A very familiar body.

"_Hermione!"_

Ron Weasley woke up in the middle of the night in his bed. He was covered in sweat and crumpled sheets, and the moon was still up. He turned his head towards the clock on the bedside table. 4 am. Three hours until he had to get up.

He threw his legs out of the bed. He wouldn't manage to sleep more now.

Ron had gotten used to have a lack of sleep. Every day now, for five years, he had nightmares about the chase. And every time he ended up finding Hermione dead on the floor.

Ron knew Hermione was dead. He had been attacked by a Death Eater, which he had chased down a corridor. Then, he knew he had been trapped, and had been knocked out by two Death Eaters at the time. Ron woke up hours later, but then Hermione had gone. And there was no sign of a fight or a duel. But if she'd been alive, she would have contacted him, right?

His father wouldn't tell him anything. Every time Ron mentioned Hermione, he would change subject. It really annoyed him, because he would like to know where Hermione was buried. Then he would have a grave to go to, at least. Ron guessed Hermione's death was hard to speak about. He couldn't blame his father for that – Ron thought of Hermione every day, he still cried when he talked about her.

Now the clock was indicating 5 am. Two more hours to go.

Ron stumbled out to the bathroom and saw himself in the mirror. There where heavy bags under his eyes showing he had had too little sleep, the bushy red hair showed he had rolled around in his bed and the pale skin stated that he was not much outdoors.

The shower was refreshing. The warm water made him more awake. The radio on the bathroom's counter told him that a new star, Vanessa Wolitskij, had been married. Why does anybody care? Ron thought while shampooing his hair. It was a comfortable voice speaking, and right after the news a song poured out of the radio. Ron knew it at once; it was the song he and Hermione had danced to that night at the Astronomy Tower…

Ron shook his head, and washed away the shampoo. It was hard to think about Hermione. She had gone away so fast, too fast. The last thing he had said to her before the hunting had started was asking what they were going to eat that night. "Stupid git," he said to the mirror. "Why do you always think about food?"

* * *

After finishing reading _The Daily Prophet_, Ron started to think about what the day had to offer. He had, finally, become a little bit systematic, and checked the Almanac (which he had gotten from his father last Christmas. It was one of the things that where positive with Muggle stuff, Ron thought. It didn't make noise). 

_9.00 AM Meeting with the group_

_11.00 AM Lunch_

_3.00 PM Finished!_

"Hmm. Not much to do today," he muttered, and closed the book with a snap (he thought he heard it wince, but it couldn't be).

Ron had worked in the Ministry for five years now. He wanted to be an Auror when he was younger, but that was before the Battle and in the aftermath of it. Ron had seen too much of the blood, the pain, the killing. When he'd gotten the offer to work in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, he said 'yes', and started the day after. There where times when he had regret, but most of the time he didn't think about it. If he had become an Auror, the memories would come back, and he wouldn't – couldn't – remember. The grief was too big, and the wounds were still fresh.

He threw on his cloak, grabbed the keys and locked the door. It was cloudy, but there were cracks in the clouds, making a few strains of light shine down on the pavement. The usual London morning traffic was driving past, and Ron felt a satisfaction of walking faster than the cars drove.

The birds twittered, the sun was shining and it was almost perfect, except for a single cloud shadowing the sun. Ron took to the right, coming to an alley behind an abandoned bookshop and tapped at the doorbell. He heard a faint "swoosh", and a click at the door. By twisting the doorknob three times to the left, another click and then two times to the right, he walked right to the floor where he worked – Level Three.

The first two years he had worked there had been a living hell. Though Voldemort had fallen, Death Eaters still had tried to live the dream; killing Mudbloods, killing Muggles, destroying important places. Ron was worn out for almost a fortnight afterwards, after the episode in Bristol, when almost a whole village had been wiped out. There had been so much to do. He thought that it would never end. But, finally it did, the Death Eaters had been taken.

Ron walked down to his office, threw the cloak on the hook (which always had to fly off the wall to catch it) and sat down by the desk. No special notes, only except one from Neville, asking about an old case. Neville had started working in the Ministry too, though a couple of floors up; he'd started in the Department of Magical Office Law. Ron scrambled down an answer (Yes, I'll send you the file within the day) and looked at the clock. Five minutes to nine. He had just got up from the chair when a young boy came storming into his office, panting "You have to come, Mr Weasley, it is urgent!"

Ron raised his eyebrows, and followed after him into the meeting room. "What's happening?" There was an anxious atmosphere, everybody looking at the pictures, coming into the room. Brasko, Ron's mentor and superior, turned to him and rumbled, "Those bloody Death Eaters are on the move again. A museum has been blown up. The Muggles think it's a stupid bomb, but we know they've been using a powerful _Bombardia_. And if that wasn't enough," grumbled Brasko turning to the pictures again, "they used _Crucio_ at some poor Muggles as well." Ron was speechless. "And why did they-?" Brasko snorted. "Well. Don't you know which date it is today, Weasley?" Ron saw a glint in his eye, and studied his face. "It's… June 15th." Ron gasped.

"_June 15th._ Bloody hell." Of course – it was now exactly five years since Voldemort's fall.

"They wanted revenge." Brasko nodded. "Yes. Now, people, get out there as quickly as you can!" He clapped his hands, and five pops filled the air.

* * *

They were the first wizards there. Ron came out of the alley, just to see a big crater. People where crying, bleeding, phoning home, the police was there, and the firemen and ambulances too. "Are you ready?" Brasko asked them, and walked to a policeman. "Hello, we're here to see the scene," Brasko said and ducked under the banner. Ron followed after, to see a horrifying picture; body parts everywhere. Blood on the walls. 

"Oh my God," he heard Johnson, one of the newer members, whisper.

"It's horrible," Ron replied, and stepped into the ruins of the museum.

"What do we do next?" Ron muttered as he took off his hat. Ron could see he was sweating, with the sun warming right at them.

"Do as we usually do," Brasko said and squatted. "Report it, take some pictures and give them to the Aurors. We can't do anything here now. We know how they've been murdered, and… well. It will be difficult to collect all of the bodies," Brasko said, and stood up. Ron nodded.

"Take pictures and contact the Aurors and the Oblivators. There'll be a lot to do for them, with all of those Memory Spells to cast," he said, and added "and I guess that the Muggles will have the parts. There were no wizards there, so we can't do nothing with that."

* * *

Ron Apparated back to the office and grabbed a cup of coffee. The sight that had met him earlier this morning was… terrible. He hadn't seen anything like this for a long time. In fact, he hadn't seen something like this. Ron flung himself down behind the desk, pulled up the drawer and found a quill, ink pot and some parchment. Writing reports was the backside of the medal. He simply hated doing it. Scrambling down what he saw, how it was, what the cause of death and scene was. "Arg," Ron exclaimed, and threw the quill away from him. "I don't want to see it!" 

He rubbed his eyes, trying to get the image out of his mind. The crater was enormous, and the body parts were… nasty. He couldn't get one thin arm out of his mind, knowing it was an arm from a little boy. "I hate it."

Ron didn't realise that a memo was hovering in front of him before it pricked him at his forehead. "Geroff," Ron muttered, and opened one eye. He sighed, and unfolded the plane.

_From: Auror Headquarters  
To: Magical Accidents and Catastrophes_

_Mr Weasly,  
Please come down to the Headquarters tomorrow first thing in the morning. We need more information about the Museum-case._

_  
H.G_

Ron wrinkled his forehead. "They need more info? What more do they need?"

"They need someone to help them out," Brasko rumbled and stepped inside Ron's office. "Since you've had your part of those cases, they need information from you."

Ron turned around. "I see. Well."

"Go home, kid. Get some sleep. You look 'orrible." Ron grinned.

"Thanks, Brasko. See you tomorrow," Ron said as grabbing his cloak.


	3. Chapter 2

_Darkness only stays at nighttime,  
in the morning it will fade away.  
Daylight is good  
at arriving at the right time.  
It's not always going to be this grey_

_ All Things Must Pass_

"Granger! Come in here for a moment, please!"

Hermione sighed, wondering what she had done this time. Had she spelled a word wrong in her last rapport? Or maybe the coffee was too strong?

She rolled her eyes, but faked a smile as she got up from her cabinet and walked down to the office where her superior was.

"Yes, Grimes?"

Henry Grimes, her superior for three years now, looked shabby. His cloak was dirty, he hadn't been shaved for a couple of days and his eyes were red of tiredness.

"Look at this," he said as he gave her a file with pictures. "Doesn't it remind you of another case?"

Hermione opened the file and studied the pictures. It was the Museum-case she had heard happened yesterday.

"Blood all over, only parts of bodies and a crater's all that's left… Death Eaters?"

"Yes, and the thing is," Grimes said as walking over to her, "did you notice the cross?" He pointed at the picture she held. Hermione studied it closer, nodding when she discovered the cross.

"I thought MacFerry was in Azkaban?" Hermione asked puzzled.

MacFerry, a Death Eater, was clever with the wand and to get away. He had been involved in a case where two Muggle families were murdered. But the Ministry couldn't give him a life-sentence, because they hadn't strong enough evidence against MacFerry. They sentenced him to ten years.

"That was what I thought too," Grimes agreed and continued, "but he isn't. MacFerry was released a week ago, you see."

"He was?" Hermione said suspiciously while furrowing her eyebrows.

"I sent someone down to speak with him, but he claims he was home at the time."

"And-?"

"He has an alibi. MacFerry was planning on going on a trip to the Bahamas. Or, so he says. Got in touch with a foreigner down there, to order a flight."

Hermione was surprised.

"He thought of booking a carpet? I thought those were an Indian phenomenon?"

Grimes laughed at her comment.

"Well, as impossible as it may be, he contacted an Indian which sold carpets."

"And all this is true." Hermione didn't believe it.

"Yes. Owls sent at that time showed an owl flying to the Bahamas."

Hermione sat down in amazement, not believing her ears. A former Death Eater sending owls to the Bahamas, booking a carpet? Her own logic sense yelled in protest.

"It can't be possible! I mean – he is a former Death Eater after all! A Death Eater doesn't send owls to the Bahamas! They don't go to the Bahamas at all!"

Grimes lifted an eyebrow. "And why not, may I ask?"

"Well…" Hermione said puzzled. "Can you imagine a Death Eater sunbathing while sipping sangria? Don't think so," Hermione said and snorted.

Grimes swished with his wand and two cups and a coffee pot came out of nowhere. A cookie tray landed on the office desk. He poured coffee, gave one cup to Hermione and sighed.

"MacFerry got out from Azkaban. Nobody thought he would manage to do that. When wizards came to visit him, they said he acted… as normal as a person could be in there. They told MacFerry was acting as Black did."

The moment Grimes mentioned Sirius, a knot tightened in Hermione's stomach. She still remembered how he died, Harry's grief and her own sorrow. It was hard to talk about him, and when someone brought up the subject like this, it came as a punch.

"So... he has no... no-" Hermione couldn't tell something that was not true. Really not true at all.

"Feelings? Correct. MacFerry has a heart of steel and coldness."

"Do you have someone else in mind?" Hermione tried to change subject as fast as possible. The tears pressing at her eyes were outstanding.

"Well. He mentioned one…" Grimes looked in his papers. "Ah, here it is. Thymus. Horatio Thymus. We checked through our files, and one case was a positive match. He was involved in the Bristol-case. And, therefore I have contacted the Magical Accidents and Catastrophes-department for some help."

Hermione looked up from the coffee in surprise.

"Really?"

"Yes. Brasko's sending me one of their best men. I don't remember his name right now. He'll be here in an hour, Brasko told me so. Once I have spoken to him, I will send him down to you. Is that ok, Granger?"

Hermione nodded stiffly.

"Is that all, Grimes? I have to go through the case before I meet with him," Hermione said as she was standing up.

"Yes. Treat him well, ok? I know you like to work alone, but this time I think you could need some help." He winked and closed the door after her.

She walked down to her cabinet and opened the case file. So, he thought she needed help? Hermione felt a rage rise up inside her. Hadn't she managed to solve all of her cases? Solve them all by herself? Had she asked for help? No. All of the answers were either logical or written in the books. And now, a rookie comes down to help _her_? She sighed. Looking at the pictures made her even angrier. Who would do such a thing to innocent Muggles?

_The one who hates every fibre of them._

She looked at the pictures again. It was almost exactly like the case MacFerry was implicated in, she couldn't see nothing that was different.

_Maybe he from the department… _

Hermione forced the evil voice back in her head. She didn't want help. She didn't _need_ help. She had always found the solution - why would she need help now?

_Then why can't you see details in the picture?_

She shook her head, trying to get the voice away. It was annoying. Anyway, where was her so-called helper? She hoped he was as good as Grimes told her. A rookie was not the thing Hermione needed right now. The last thing she needed was an insecure wart.

"You will be working with on of the best Aurors we have…"

Hermione could hear Grimes' voice coming closer. She woke up from the trance, when hearing Grimes. The voice who answered him was... familiar? She knew she had heard it before, but where?

Hermione tried to see who it was, but an idiot hanging over the divider of his cubicle, talking to his neighbour was blocking her view. "Move... move," whispered Hermione. Was Grimes always that slow when he walked? And why didn't they come down to her?

"Come, I'll lead you to her," Grimes said, walking down to her cabinet. Finally. She tried to look busy, but it wasn't easy, now knowing the familiar voice was coming closer to her.

She heard footsteps. Footsteps stopping in front of her cabinet. Grimes' coughing. "You have a visitor."

Hermione turned around. She gasped and almost fell off the chair.

"Ron!"


End file.
